Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or Bethesda Studios or the Stormcloaks or Imperials.
A/N: This will be an author insert story.
"Finally. Fresh Blood" A man nocked his arrow at Orkel as we walked on. I heard a soft "Uff", leading to a whimper, and ending with a scream of pain all from Orkel.
"NO," I cried out as I watched my orc savior fall to his knees, an arrow shaft potruding from his neck "NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. Please, NO," I screamed.
"NO." I grabbed him by the arm and tyred to drag him along, but nighttime came quickly. I set up camp and in the morning he was gone. Damn Wolves. I walked on the battered path to Whiterun.
"When are we raiding Riverwood. I will kill those dumb villigers in a heartbeat," said a heavily accented voice.
"Tonight. Be patient," said another man.
"Shut up," said a woman. I had to charge in, and quick. Dagger, armor, and potion of healing. Good. I ran in and slit one of the bandits throats. Another ran up and slashed me. I ran up and threw my dagger into the bandits chest. One more. The woman. I grabbed my potion. Broke it over her skull.
"Lets get the others," said a voice from inside the mine. Shit. Run. Now. I ran the whole way to a small village. I realized with a shock I had arrived at Riverwood. I had to tell everyone about the raid. I ran to a forge looking thing and saw a man.
"There's going to be a raid tonight. Get ready,"
"Alright tell everyone with me we need to get ready. Go tell everyone over there. I'll alert the innkeeper and eveyone else," he replied. I ran and told an elf. He practicaly flipped out, and drew his bow. I told 3 other people and they told their friends. That night they came. Twenty bandts dressed in iron armor. Five with bows, six with daggers, and nine with swords. The bow-men nocked their arrows and let loose. The burly blacksmith fell over in pain and died painfully. The raid has begun.
